Getting Inked
by PureFury
Summary: While Dean was in hell, Sam began to get tattoos. Needless to say, it's a shock for Dean when he returned.


It started when Dean was in hell. It made sense really, Sam had nothing else to do so threw himself into old tomes and books. It was probably just under a week after Dean had died that Sam got the idea. A sentence of Latin caught his eye which he instantly fell in love with; no matter how girly that sounded. He found it deep within an old book about Angels.

It's not the fall that hurts, it's the landing.

It took him a few days to decide but once he had the thought in his head he just couldn't stop thinking about it.

It was two weeks after Dean had died, Sam was lying back on a black chair. He was shirtless, revealing his tight abs and stomach muscles, as the artist drew the design onto his flesh. The pen tickled his right set of ribs as the heavily tattooed man drew on the words. Each letter curled neatly just like Sam had requested.

"What does it mean?" The man, Connor, asked as he glanced down at the words that Sam had written out in Latin.

"What, significance wise or in English?" Sam asked lazily as his eyes peered around the small back room of the tattoo parlour. Other designs were placed up on the wall to give customers inspiration; they'd kept sam entertained for the last 10 minutes or so.

The guy laughed, "In English?"

Sam smiled slightly but still found the expression hard to force onto his face. He still felt empty and there was a hole where Dean belonged, "It's not the fall that hurts, it's the landing."

The guy nodded with a smile,"That's kinda deep." He glanced up at the tattoo on Sam's chest. An obvious question burnt in his eyes, "What's that one?"

Sam looked down at his anti-possession tattoo and raised an eyebrow. It sometimes felt weird to think about how everyday people didn't know things that were essential in his life. Sam really didn't feel like telling the truth so decided on a lie, "It is just like a symbol. I'm not too sure what it means."

The guy nodded before double checking that he'd spelt the unfamiliar words correctly. Who learnt Latin these days anyway?

It was almost two hours later that Sam got out of the tattoo parlour. The skin over his right-side set of ribs stung as though he had sun burn under the wrap which was placed over it to protect the area. The words were clear and, to his relief, spelt correctly. Now he was just looking forward to it healing.

Almost month after Dean's death and a whole state over, a thought suddenly struck Sam: Why hadn't he gotten a tattoo in Dean's memory? Especially since he wasn't coming back.

He toyed with different designs for a day or so as he wanted it to be perfect but also to mean something special. In the end, the drawing he handed over to the tattoo artist was simple but did the job.

The tattoo artist he went to this time was a small woman that had a sleeve comprised completely of cats, large stretchers in her ears and she had hair that seemed different shades of blue dependent upon what type of light they were in. She was nice enough though.

Her work was impressive so Sam felt in safe hands even though he still got slight butterflies in his stomach that accompanied getting a tattoo despite it being his third. Unlike his last tattoo artist, she didn't ask questions and remained quiet to mostly focus on her work. In a way, Sam appreciated the silence so he could get lost in his thoughts again. Even though his thoughts were usually kind of depressing these days. He was still missing Dean.

When she was done he peered down at it and his eyes stung. The tattoo was on the inside of his right wrist. It was the date that Dean had died with the amulet from his necklace drawn underneath. To a stranger, it would be insignificant but to Sam it meant the world and represented them. It was neat, small and clean. He was very happy with it.

The small woman, Ellie, wrapped in tightly and sent him on his way, pretending that she didn't see the tears that gathered in his big hazel eyes.

The next design came to him while he was completely and undoubtedly drunk at 4am. The tattoo on his wrist had only just began to heal but as soon as the image got into his head he knew he needed it and desperately. He hadn't left town yet so he could visit the same parlour that did his wrist. The woman had done a good job so he knew it'd be well drawn.

He wrote the idea on the motel note pad in large writing, WINGS. He really hoped that his sober brain would understand what his drunk brain was on about. It seemed like a good idea now. He just hoped it still was once he had a nights sleep and sobered up slightly.

When he woke up the next morning, well technically afternoon, he could barely function as his brain throbbed inside the walls of his skull. His stomach sloshed and body ached but he was beginning to get used to the sensation of a hangover. Since Dean had died there'd rarely been a night that he didn't need a little hunter's helper, as Bobby called it, to knock him off to sleep. Last night had been a particularly bad night for him. He tried not to make a habit of drinking a whole whiskey bottle on his own in a matter of hours.

He pulled himself from his bed and managed to stumbled to the bathroom just in time to empty is stomach of its contents. He groaned to himself before flushing it away and getting up to splash water on his face. He glared at himself in the mirror; he looked like hell. Dark bags under his eyes, pale and clammy skin and limp hair that stuck to his forehead. Rolling his eyes, he stepped into the shower to freshen up.

He emerged 10 minutes later feeling marginally better. He muttered to himself about regrets as he stepped through to get dressed. He sat on the edge of the bed when something caught his eye. Scrawled on the paper was the word 'WINGS' in bold capital letters.

"Wings?" He asked himself confused.

He scrunched up his face and thought while trying to ignore the pain it caused. It suddenly dawned on him what the message meant. It was his latest design idea for another tattoo. And maybe it was the hangover talking but it was a brilliant idea. A smile spread on his lips, this was going to be great.

It was just over an hour later when he stepped back into the tattoo parlour that he'd visited two days before. The same tattoo artist was sat at the desk looking bored as she had no customers in. She peered up as Sam stepped through the door. She frowned for a second as he recognised him within seconds.

"Is everything okay?" She asked quickly, silently praying that nothing was wrong with the tattoo she'd done a day or two ago. After all, tattoo removal would cost the guy big bucks.

"Yeah," He reassured her, "I just need a tattoo."

She leant her head curiously, "Another?"

He nodded before shifting slightly, "It's a big one so... I don't know if I need to book an appointment but I'm leaving town next week so..."

"What is it?"

He pulled out a picture that'd he'd found on the internet. It was almost exactly how he wanted it. She raised her eyebrows in shock. This was quite a jump up from the small piece that she'd done in his wrist.

The picture showed large angel wings on a man's back. They weren't perfect as each feather was unique and looked worn almost as though the angel had fallen down from heaven. The artist had to admit that they were really beautiful and she vowed to herself that she'd carry out every single detail to make them perfect.

"Are you sure?" She asked, "They're pretty large and will cost a lot."

Nodding, Sam smiled, "Yeah, definitely. Money isn't an issue."

"Okay then. We can start now, if you want, then see how far we get before arranging further appointments as these will take a while."

They arranged payment and the session. She stared over the design again and took the time to truly appreciate the artist's work. They'd done a really good job but if it was her she would have made them larger especially since they were supposed to look kind of realistic. She asked Sam about it and he agreed so she enlarged the design.

When Sam pulled his top off her jaw dropped. She knew he was fit but she hadn't expected such toned muscles hidden under the layers of clothes. He was slightly on the skinny side as his ribs protruded slightly more than they should have but she wasn't one to pry into personal matters. She saw the words permanently marked in his skin over his ribs and wondered what it meant and what it meant to Sam. She couldn't help but wonder if he spoke Latin or if it was a Google Translate sentence.

He smiled before climbing onto his stomach on the bed so she had access to his broad shoulders. She'd have to widen the wings as well so they'd stretch over his back. She smiled in excitement. It wasn't very often that she had a challenge like this presented to her.

Sam closed his eyes and retreated into his thoughts again as Ellie mapped the wings out on his back. Luckily, she didn't have another customer for over three hours so it have her time to make a start on Sam's request. She even considered asking another artist to come in to do the other person's tattoo so she could get a big chunk of this one done today.

He didn't exactly fall asleep but he was lost in his thoughts as the actual tattooing began. He ignored the slight discomfort to instead focus on his thoughts. He was starting to get tired of his own brain and the thoughts that came along with it. They tended to focus on Dean and how it hurt since he was gone. Am I replacing Dean with ink? He had asked himself. He discarded the idea quickly.

Several hours later and massive progress had been made on the wings. Their outline spread right across the area of his broad shoulders and the very tips off the wings reached down to just below the waist band of his jeans. The shape of each feather was there and each was a tiny but different which made the wings seem unique.

Ellie had just started on the shading when she'd decided to call it time on the session. They'd spent hours without moving aside from drinks and pee breaks. She had managed to palm off the other appointment to someone else so she could spend longer with Sam. He was quiet which she liked as it allowed her to concentrate but was also funny when they did make conversation.

She wrapped the tattoo and he was slipping his T-shirt back on when she asked him a question that she'd wanted to know for a while.

"Can I ask you a question?" Sam nodded in affirmative "Why wings?"

He smirked, "Because I'm a fallen angel. Isn't it obvious?"

"Yeah, it is." She joked along. "And your writing?" She gestured towards his rib to encourage him.

"It's Latin for 'It's not the fall that hurts, it's the landing'." He shrugged while pulling in his jacket and wincing as it pressed against his sore skin.

"You really are a fallen angel." She smirked at his apparent obsession with the biblical creatures and their falling.

"You bet. I'll call about the next session." He winked before turning and leaving the tattoo parlour.

He turned on his side, it hurt. He turned on his back, the pain increased. He lay on his front, the only place where he could seek relief from the sunburn like pain on his back. It's going to be a pain applying lotion to that, he thought. If Dean were here he could-No, he stopped his train of thought. No need to go down that path again.

It took him a while but he eventually drifted off into an uneasy sleep of sweat and burning skin. He dreamt of falling Angels speaking Latin until they hit the floor with an almighty thud. That's what jerked him awake.

He got up, put the healing cream onto his wings (with great difficulty) and got ready for the day. He decided to organise the next appointment for the next day so he could spend today letting his sore skin heal a little. He was keen to get it finished as he'd completed the hunt in this town so was out of distractions. That wasn't good as it let his mind wonder to dark thoughts which made him drink.

It only took another two sessions with Ellie to have the tattoo completely finished and with them both 100% happy with it. Over the many, many hours they'd actually grown close and she was quite sad to finally see him go. She took a picture of her work to put on display before wrapping it up and sending him on his way with a tight hug, whist being careful not to touch his painful back.

He couldn't have been more pleased with the wings.

A over a week later and with wings that were beginning to heal, Sam was on another hunt in a different state. The demon fought against the rope which tied him to a chair. Sam chanted the exorcism making the demon fight harder before black smoke came billowing from his mouth.

Sam smirked slightly but sank into his thoughts as he gathered his equipment and headed back to the Impala. As he walked he thought over the words which could send a demon back to hell but remain harmless to practically anything else.

These thoughts continued to plague his mind as he lay in another uncomfortable motel bed whilst trying, and failing, to finally fall asleep. These words, that he knew off by heart and had known since they first came across a demon, were tightly entwined in his life. It seemed like a good enough reason to get it permanently marked on his skin.

Choosing the location of this new design was a real challenge for Sam. He wanted it to be perfect so spent time considering the possibilities. It took a while but eventually he decided to have the exorcism written on the space under his collar bone but it would curve gently as though following the line of a T-shirt neckline. The there would be two lines of writing so the full exorcism would fit in without need to make the writing too small.

The only tattoo parlour in town was a little run down in comparison with the other three he'd visited before but he wanted to get it done before he left town so there wasn't much of an option. He hoped that it wouldn't take too long as he really should have left town by now especially since the person the demon had been wearing was buried on the edge of the woods.

He had a male tattoo artist this time, Donnie, and like all the others, he obviously used himself as a sketch pad. He was getting on in years but his youthful attitude meant that you mostly forgot about the age gap. He made Sam laugh a lot which wasn't ideal for when Donnie was tattooing but it helped the time pass quickly.

It was done within a matter of hours without even a question about what the words meant. He was rather pleased with the results too. The letters were bold and block writing; Sam chose this to represent the power that they had behind them. He smirked as he read the words marked there.

Dean would be shocked to see Sam these days. Sam wondered if maybe he was addicted to getting ink but shook off the idea. That's impossible anyway, right? Sam asked himself.

It was a shock when Dean came back. Nobody was expecting it especially not Sam who'd gotten the tattoo on his inner wrist in memory.

His tattoos weren't secret but he kept his shirt on around Dean anyway. He kept it buttoned all the way to the top, beside one, and either wore a hoodie or made sure his sleeves were long enough to cover up his wrists too. He was hesitant to show Dean because he had no idea what he'd say about his new ink. He personally loved them as each had a meaning to them.

Dean had been back for almost three months when Sam felt the familiar pull to get another tattoo. Dean was sleep in the other bed, drunk out of his mind, when Sam decided to slip out and search for a parlour to browse through the artist's work.

There was one at the end of their motel's road so he wandered down there to look around a bit. He was flicking through a portfolio of work when he saw a tattoo on a man's hip bone area. Looking down at his torso as though he could see through fabric, Sam considered the blankness on the front of his right hip. He rested his hand there to imagine another piece of artwork etched into his skin.

Maybe it was becoming an addiction, Sam thought to himself.

Dean turned over in his bed when Sam shut the motel door upon returning. It was the middle of the night, the younger man had been gone for hours. Luckily for him, Dean didn't realise as he'd been asleep for so long.

Dean peeped an eye open to see his brother. In his mind there could only be one reason for leaving at night, "About time, Sam. Some of us were beginning to think that you were celibate."

Dean was too tired to put any malice into his voice so Sam simply shrugged and pulled on his sleeping T-shirt (long sleeved, of course) and pyjama pants.

He wasn't ready to show Dean his ink. You never know what people will say about them especially big ones like his wings. Dean said nothing more instead he began to drift back into unconsciousness.

Sam peaked down at the plastic wrap in his hip and sighed satisfied as he slipped into bed and pulled the blanket up to his chin to keep warm and snug. He was asleep within seconds. The new tattoo stung slightly but he was used to it now. It had become familiar with its burn and knew of the reward he'd have once it was healed. A red demon trap.

Sam had another tattoo by the time Dean finally found out. The newest piece was roses that spread down his left side from the bottom of his ribs(the side without the Latin tattoo) and all the way down to the front of his hip. It seemed like a feminine choice at first but the artist was able to really get the rugged detail into each petal, just as Sam had asked for. The shading was dark reds and greens for the leaves which made the roses look beautiful but dangerous which, he thought, was perfect.

The tattoo wasn't random he'd actually considered something similar to this before he started tattooing. He'd started thinking about it soon after Jess had died. Roses to represent her beauty and ferocity. Now that he'd mastered the needle, it seemed like an obvious choice. Sam supposed that it could be for everyone he'd lost, not just Jess. He briefly wondered what his mom would have said about his ink.

All his tattoos were healed and he wasn't planning any more for the time being when Dean found out. It had all started with a simple hunt but Sam had to go and get himself stabbed anyway. The blood seeped from the wound on his stomach but it wasn't too deep so he didn't worry about internal injury. The blood soaked into the T-shirt as Dean raced them back to the motel whilst breaking every speed limit ever created.

"Just five more minutes, okay?" Dean encouraged but Sam only responded with a grunt in pain as they drove over a dip in the road jerking Sam.

They got back in under Dean's predicted time as he really put his foot down. Rushing around the car, he lopped an arm around his brother to help him walk. Sam tried to bat his hands away but his brother gripped tight.

"I'm fine, Dean." Sam grit his teeth, "It's not even that deep."

"Says he who was just bleeding out onto my upholstery!"

They stumbled into the motel and Dean left Sam on one of the beds as he went to fetch the medical kit to sew his brother up. They'd become quite well practiced at first aid. He returned less than a minute later wielding a large bag with everything any medical professional could possibly need. Always served to be well prepared just in case you find yourself in a situation much like this one.

"Okay. Take it off." Dean said distractedly as he tugged on the edge of Sam's T-shirt and sat on the edge of the mattress ready to help his brother.

Panic flashed in the younger's eyes and he held the hem of his clothes firmly in place despite how the sticky blood was smearing over his torso, "No!"

"No?" Dean frowned in absolute confusion.

"No, Dean."

He blinked, "What? You grow a third nipple or summin'?"

Sam mumbled quietly but remained stubborn which made his elder brother sigh in frustration.

Dean groaned inwardly, "Look, Sammy. Either take it off or bleed to death."

"Fine but... Don't say a word." He commanded with worried eyes.

"Okay. Okay, now take it off."

Slowly, Sam hauled the material off his body and over his head. The action revealed his hips, stomach, chest and arms which also meant that all his tattoos were on clear display. Sam screwed his eyes shut to avoid seeming his brother's reaction. If it was negative then he would definitely not turn over and show Dean his wings.

He could feel the stab wound throbbing in his flesh. He was kind of relieved that it had missed any of his art work. He didn't particularly want scar tissue messing up the color or smooth lines. He peaked an eye open to see his brother staring wide eyed at him.

"Holy shit, Sam."

Sam grimaced, ready to face Dean's inevitable insults and negative comments. He knew he should probably say something and explain himself but he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"You're freakin' inked, dude." Awe filled Dean's voice only confusing sam further.

"Umm, yeah." He replied shakily.

"When? Where?" Dean asked excitedly.

"You're okay about this?" Sam leant his head to the side. He ignored the throbbing that was radiating from his wound. There were now way more important things to focus on like Dean's reaction.

The older man touched the Latin across Sam's ribs with cold fingers making the tattooed man jump from the temperature. He pulled the tip of his finger over the words appreciating it as an art form.

"What does it say?" Dean whispered quietly. His Latin was nothing in comparison to Sam's which was verging on fluent. He should have known that the nerd would get an ancient language permanently drawn into his flesh.

"It's not the fall that hurts, it's the landing." He answered automatically as he watched his brother carefully. It was a question that he'd been asked a couple of times but no more than that.

Dean chuckled, "Always the deep one, Sammy."

"So you don't mind them?"

"It's your body so it doesn't really matter but for the record, yes I do." Dean was gently touching the dark roses that spread along his left side. The lines were clear and precise. They were even more beautiful than the real thing.

Dean let his eyes wonder over the new lines, colors and designs on his brother's skin. It wasn't something that he'd expected from his brother. He'd always thought that he was too much of a nerd to ever get anything of substance done but he had obviously misjudged his baby brother.

"If you like them... Then I have something else to show you." Sam said hesitantly. He waited for Dean to nod before moving.

Struggling as a result of the wound that was still oozing a little bit of blood, he pulled himself up onto his feet. He peered down at his brother once more just to check one last time before slowly turning around. In doing so he revealed his back to Dean.

Sam could practically feel the shock rolling off Dean in waves. He stood a mere moments before turning to face him.

"Sam... You're not the total geek that I thought." He said sombrely as though he'd lost a loved one. It was only seconds before his act broke down leaving him in fits of giggles. Sam began to laugh too but the movement pulled at the hole in his stomach.

"Um, Dean?"

"Mmm?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably, "Could you patch me up please?"

"Sure thing..." He smiled to himself, "I suppose you're used to pain nowadays."

"... They don't hurt that much..."

"Sure thing, bitch." Dean chuckled.

"Jerk..." Sam muttered beneath his breath as he perched on the edge of the mattress for his brother to begin cleaning and sewing up the wound.

Dean knelt on the floor in front of his brother's knees. He picked up the alcohol, to clean the stab site but also for Sam to gulp down, to begin washing out the bloody mess. The procedure was painful but Sam tried not to pay too much attention to the sting. He allowed his thoughts to wonder as his brother fixed him.

His tattoos had seemed to gotten mildly out of control yet he could honestly say that he didn't regret a single one of them. His memorial tattoo on his wrist in Dean's honor had previously been his favourite but his brother's resurrection had taken some of the satisfaction from it. His wings had quickly taken over the top position so was now Sam's favorite without a doubt. They may not have had a direct meaning but the idea of fallen angels just fascinated him.

A gentle touch on his wrist pulled him from his thoughts. Dean was lightly tracing his cold fingers over the design that was inked there. Sam tugged his arm back and held it against his chest in an attempt to hide the tattoo from his brother's prying eyes.

"Dude..." Dean whispered, "Is that... For me?"

"No!" Sam cried automatically, "... Maybe... Yes."

Dean wrapped his fingers around Sam's arm and pulled it from the other man's chest to allow him to inspect the tattoo. It was simple but said what it needed to. He was touched that his brother cared so much that he would do this for him. He felt the overwhelming urge to pull him into a tight embrace.

Sam yelped in surprise when Dean tugged him into his arms.

"Sam... I don't know what to say." Dean stuttered into his brother's neck as his arms tightened around Sam's large torso. He held onto his brother for a few minutes before finally releasing him. He would never admit that a tear had dropped down his cheek during the hug. He'd missed the closeness between them.

"Hey," Dean smirked and raised a mischievous eyebrow. A spark danced in his green eyes, "D'ya fancy another matching tattoo?"

A smile broke out onto Sam's lips. He clapped the shorter man's shoulder and laughed, "That's the best idea you've ever had!"

Several hours later and the two Winchester brothers strode out of the tattoo parlour that happened to be closest to their motel. They were both beaming and talking as they made their way back to their room. They were happier than they'd been for a while especially with their new tattoos.

Both boys had plastic wrap on their left wrist which covered the tattoo. Bitch &amp; Jerk was tattooed nearly onto the skin there. Dean had claimed that it hurt but Sam had simply laughed, calling him a big baby.


End file.
